


Slippery When Wet

by FiccinDylan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Come Eating, Emissary in Training Stiles Stilinski, Feral Behavior, Mates, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 05:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10802475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiccinDylan/pseuds/FiccinDylan
Summary: So can you write something with Derek having a unrestless oral fixation toward Stiles as he needs have the teen's dick on his mouth and taste his cum ASAP. Stiles get a little bit annoyed by the greediness but he hop on board anyway cause he can't deny Derek anything. Make it so shameless, slobbered and wet as you want. xD---------------------------------------akaWell, 99.9% of the time when you meet your mate, you forge a bond and there’s no problem, it’s all very generic and sweet with just a touch of heightened emotion.And the other .10%?Well… you’ll basically turn into a cockslut who craves the taste and tacky sensation of semen in and outside of you at pretty much all times of the day.  But you won’t need to worry about that, it only occurs in like, 1 out of every trillionth person!Fuck Derek’s life.





	Slippery When Wet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Benn_Xavier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benn_Xavier/gifts).



> Had a user that left some amazing comments so I asked them for a prompt as a thank you. I... was not expecting this!
> 
> I regret nothing.

He didn’t know what brought it up in the first place. Sure, some could easily blame it on the universe, some tear in the cosmos or even something as trite and vindictive as fate. The issue wasn’t what brought the question up, it was the information the seemingly innocuous question revealed.

“So… what’s it like meeting your mate?” Derek asks the local vet slash emissary slash bringer of healing and headaches in equal amounts -to Derek at least. The wizened man shrugs nonchalantly before answering.

“Well, Derek. 99.9% of the time when you meet your mate, you forge a bond that’s a bit more intense than usual and it helps solidify the way you spend the rest of your lives together. There’s rarely any problems, it’s all very generic and sweet.” Deaton absentmindedly puts away supplies as Derek watches him carefully.

Derek was a smart guy, but more importantly he had the uncanny and enviable foresight to be able to learn from the mistakes of others, mostly his own. He knew that the generality of the 99.9% didn’t apply to him. An unfortunate series of events has seen to make Derek constantly on the outside of common happenings and it seemed he was doomed to live his life in the .10%, whatever the hell that was.

“Deaton, what happens the other .10%?” He asks. Deaton eyes him carefully, something wary jumping in his eyes. Derek knows this isn’t going to end well.

“You don’t really need to worry about that, Derek. It’s an anomaly at best, hardly anything to worry yourself abou-”

“Deaton.” Derek interrupts, not unkindly, “The other .10%?”

Deaton sighs the sigh of a man who knows when shit is about to go down.

“Well, Derek,” He mumbles quickly, as though the simple act of stating it into the universe is going to be the thing that brings about the curse. He may not entirely be wrong, “because of our biological imperative to mate, there’s sometimes an abundance of leftover primal and feral urges that-”

“Wait, slow down! Biological and primal urges? What the fuck, Deaton?” Derek looks around frantically for a pen and a pad of paper as Deaton huffs another sigh and rubs his temples.

“Derek -and I’m only telling you this because it’s good information to know, not because I’m willing it to happen or even think it will, because the chances of it actually happening are completely impossible.”

“Deaton, I’m an alpha werewolf and I’m in love with a human who is tattoo’d to hell and back, dabbles recklessly in magic, and is apprenticing to be the emissary of my pack in between taking online classes for a fucking business degree. Shit happens.”

Shit, that’s why this whole line of discussion had come up in the first place. Derek was in love with Stiles. He guesses he always had been, but lately the same interactions between them were causing different reactions from Derek. Now when Stiles taunted him and made fun of his decisions, instead of feeling intense annoyance and having to go run into the woods and kill some unsuspecting wildlife, Derek would… well, do exactly that, only this time he wanted to leave the wildlife on Stiles’ porch and preen as the young man fawned over the spoils.

Instead of fawning over the spoils, Stiles retched and called animal control. The fact that Derek was so hurt about it, let him realize that maybe something else was going on and he needed to figure out what the fuck that was.

This time, when Stiles pushed Derek and test him, Derek wouldn’t push him against the nearest surface and get intimidatingly in his face… well, he would, but now he added a long line of a hot wet tongue up the side of the boy’s face while grinding into his crotch. He needed answers fast. What was this and why was it happening now all of a sudden?

“You’re in love, Derek? Really?” Deaton asks, crossing his arms over his chest and watching Derek’s face for a response. Derek nods minutely, ducking his chin, but being betrayed by the pinking at the top of his ears.

“Yeah, I haven’t talked to Stiles about it, but I’ve got all these mating urges and I want to know what to expect. I kind of go out of myself and that’s weird for me, I can’t imagine how it will effect him. But… because it’s him, Deaton? I know that that .10% is gonna bite me in the ass and I want to be prepared.”

Deaton nods slowly before raising an eyebrow at the young wolf.

“Derek, perhaps this is one of those situations where the less you know, the better. I just… I know Beacon Hills has a way of fucking things up, especially with you. Do you really want to add another thing to worry about?”

Derek inhales sharply. He can feel sweat beading on his lip and his vision is starting to blur around the edges.

“It must be really bad. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse, much less say _fuck_.” Derek wipes his now sweaty palms on his jeans. It’s a new development, he’s noticed it happens when Stiles is within a 100ft radius. He must be arriving for some of his sessions with Deaton. Shit, he needs to get this under control. “Please, Deaton, just tell me. The other percent? What is it?”

Deaton sighs and pockets his hand, bowing his head to the floor, but keeping his eyes fixed on Derek like he’s an agitated animal about to attack.

“Well, Derek, umm, you see… in very, _very_ few cases, it’s been reported that uhh... “

Derek leans forward slightly, raising slightly on his tip toes. He hears the front door of the clinic and his whole body seems to thrum to life as Stiles crosses the threshold. He becomes so enraptured he nearly misses what Deaton says.

“-unrelenting need to affix yourself to him orally and you’ll find his ejaculate addictive and won’t be able to function properly unless it’s on your skin or has been penetrated inside of you.”

“Wait, what?!” Derek yells as Stiles enters the room. He seems to notice the tension immediately.

“Yo, dudes, what’s up?”

“Shut up, Stiles! Don’t call us dudes!”

“Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles waves at Deaton, but looks at Derek tepidly, rolling his eyes.

“What’s crawled up your ass and died, _Alpha_?”

Derek wants to reach out and throttle the boy, but he also wants to shove his tongue in the young man’s mouth and suck his tongue dry. Then he wants to take all that spit and run a bath with it and just get Stiles’ stank in every orifice. It’s true he hadn’t talked to Stiles about the mate thing, but not for a lack of trying. Just the night before he went to the young man’s house, climbing in his window with the intention of talking to him about it. Instead he licked his asshole until the young man came and then he ran away without explanation and shut off his phone. He knew Stiles had to be curious, but what he didn’t know is that Stiles had been feeling close to the same thing. And that he’d been thinking about it often with as many fingers shoved up his ass that he could fit. If Derek knew that, he wouldn’t be at Deaton’s now, gushing precum into his boxers at the sound of Stiles calling him alpha, he’d be riding Stiles like… umm, like… _shit_ , he’s too horny to think of a good analogy. He just wants Stiles to fuck him. He thanks Gaia that Stiles isn’t a were and can smell the stench of his attraction, though that seems to be where his good graces end.

“Deaton!” Derek takes a step towards the doctor and is evidently about to grab him when he notices his claws are out. He gapes before looking at Stiles who is staring at him warily with his large sparkling eyes. Derek snarls, switching directions and heading towards his prey. Deaton holds up a finger.

“Alpha Hale, it’s time for Stiles’ class, we can continue this discussion-” he stops and sighs.

“Uhh, Derek, what the literal fu-” Stiles begins his protest and it ends as he’s pressed into the counter -mostly by Derek’s hips- and Derek begins snuffling and whimpering into the boy’s neck. Sure, if Stiles were one to value self preservation over positive physical stimulation, he would definitely have been more concerned with stopping this intrusion. As it is, he’s a young man with an active libido and a fucking alpha paw grasping at his junk. And he’s long magicked away that pesky shame gene.

“Derek, I’ll have to ask you to control yourself!”

“ _Grrrr…_ ” Derek… growls into Stiles’ nape as he continues to ignore Deaton and runs his tongue along Stiles’ collarbone.

“Shut up, Deaton!” Stiles shouts out as he tangles one hand in Derek’s hair and uses the other to anchor himself as he wraps a leg around Derek’s waist. “Get out of here, man!”

“This is still a place of business!” Deaton uncharacteristically raises his voice and pulls out a spray bottle. “I will spray you down and you won’t like the solution!”

“Fuck! Derek, you gotta stop, he’s gonna wolfsbane mace you!” Stiles tries to plead with the wolf who is having a hell of a time with the button on Stiles’ jeans and just about to rip them away when he feels a sharp sting of pain on the back of his neck. He growls menacingly and turns to see Deaton holding the bottle and a look just daring the wolf to try him. Derek finally comes to himself, shaking his head and retracting his claws.

“Shit, what the fuck just happened? I’m so sorry!” Derek apologizes profusely, still trying to get his head on straight, but he can’t with Stiles’ scent still lingering. “I gotta… I gotta go.” He sprints from the room and soon the two remaining men hear the Camaro pulling out of the lot and down the street.

Stiles tears his eyes away from the door and levels them at the doctor who is coyly trying to exit through the back.

“Deaton! What the _fuck_ was that?” Stiles yells, slamming the door with a flick of his wrist. Deaton bemoaning his current station in life, sighs and turns to Stiles.

“Derek’s your mate. You’re fucked.”

***********************

Stiles is at the farmer’s market picking up an avocado. He’s having a taco night. It’s normal. It’s a thing that normal people do and damn it all to hell, Stiles Stilinski is normal. Yes, he’s an apprentice emissary for the Hale Pack. Yes, he’s a human in Beacon Hills aka the venus flytrap for supernatural bullshit. And yes, he’s just found out he’s recently mated to the alpha of said pack, but considering the bar that has henceforth been set? Pretty fucking normal!

So Stiles is at the farmer’s market, poking avocados to find the perfect one or two to make into guacamole because tonight is taco night. He’s fingering one such berry when a thought sneaks into his head.

“ _He’s basically going to become craven to the savor of your ejaculate._ ”

“Only Deaton could make being a cum slut sound even more gross.” He says to no one, though still attracting the attention of the vendor. She’s been eyeing him anyway, as he was overly handsy with the fruit, but decides to give him a wider berth after the comment and starts helping another person. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“ _The combination of the scent and the consent of your pheromones are going to be overwhelming to him and he’s going desire your… essence mingled with his until the induction period is complete._ ”

“Induction of my cock into _dat ass_.” Stiles smirks.

“Sir, do you need some help?!” The vendor asks tersely eyeing the avocados still in Stiles’ hands and the growing erection in his pants. He sighs, if only she knew.

He’d left Deatons and came straight here. He needed a bit of avoidance after the doctor explained to him what was going on. Basically, the love of his life, Derek Hale, loved him back. Which was fantastic except for the part where Derek fell impossibly into the mating category of weres who go batshit crazy for their mates and craved their… _essence_ at almost all times of the day. Stiles goes through the events of the last few days and it all pretty much lined up perfectly. Though Deaton had explained Derek’s side, Stiles hadn’t been so forthcoming with his own experiences. After Derek grinded against him the first time, Stiles could feel the bond knocking for permission to his heart. If the orgasm Derek pulled out of him that night was the consent, then Stiles could say it was given enthusiastically. He still wasn’t completely sure what the bond entailed or how they would know when it was satisfied, but he knew with all of the bullshit that popped up, they needed to stay at the ready constantly and a pack with a bussy beleaguered alpha wasn’t going to be a help to anyone. Sure, Derek being cum crazy sounded like a win-win for Stiles, but the universe often had a way of fucking with Derek so Stiles knew signing up for this mate nonsense was going to be a wild ride for him.

But fuck it if he wasn’t going to sign up. He’s been patiently waiting for the wolf to pull his head from his ass for years and he was happy for the nature based nudge though he still questioned the timing. Well he would, if he were handling the entire thing responsibly. After the doctor started talking about _“indiscriminate displays of public copulation”_ , Stiles raised both hands and _nope’d_ his way out of the office. He went straight to the farmer’s market so he could freak out and get condiments all at once (he was great at multitasking), and that’s where he was now. In the middle of the Beacon Hills Veggie Mart molesting vegetables with a growing erection.

“Why do I have an erection?” Stiles asks himself as the vendor in front of him pleads with her eyes.

“Sir, can I ring those up for you? Please!”

Deaton mentioned something about acknowledging the bond would cause he and Derek to be be drawn together to start their crazy assed mating dance, but Stiles hasn’t seen Derek since he hightailed it out of the clinic.

“Sorry, ma’am. Hopefully this is enough for the avocados… and everything else that’s happened today. Stiles, come with me.”

Well speak of the devil. Derek Hale is standing behind Stiles stretching out a wad of cash to the vendor and grasping his hand around Stiles’ wrist to pull him away. Stiles… he should say something, right? He opens his mouth, but finds it parched as he watches the wolf who is trying to lead them out of the farmer’s market. The avocado stand was in the middle. It’s the feature of the week. The exit… it’s so far away. Stiles is dying of thirst -in more ways than one- as he lets out a groan after his crotch brushes the side of a basket holding tomatoes. The vendor looks at him disapprovingly, but Stiles hardly notices. He’s parched, but Derek…. Derek is drooling. His mouth is so full of wetness his mouth can’t even contain it. And Stiles is so thirsty. There’s a solution here, if only he could wrap his head around-

“How the fuck do we get out of here!?” Derek sputters out, spit flying as drool drips down his chin and his eyes flash. Stiles’ wrist feels loose in his sweaty palm.

“Der, wait, let’s just stop and regroup. Let’s just-” Stiles tries to… do anything that makes sense. But the only things that makes sense to him is going down on all fours and presenting for the alpha. Or maybe lying on his back with is ankles by his ears. Dammit, he was going to need Derek to step up and be the sensible one here.

“Can’t, if we stop the wolf is gonna come out and I… I must have you, Stiles, do you understand? I must-” Derek’s plea is interrupted by Stiles’ tongue delving into his mouth. Okay, so he definitely should have paid more attention to Deaton. If he had he would have heard the part about he and Derek being magically drawn to each other and consummating the bond regardless of the locale. But… Derek was so responsible! There was no way he would allow that to happen, right? Stiles could trust that Derek would be in control and there’s probably a perfectly fine reason that Stiles’ bare ass is on the cool cement and Derek is hoover-ing his cock while squeezing a tomato over his crotch.

Stiles is sure Derek at least paid for the tomato first.

“Oh fuck yes, you beautiful, beautiful bastard!” Stiles pulls at Derek’s hair, but not to stop the wolf (like he should), but just because he feels like Derek would like it. Derek sneaks a finger into his wet hot mouth and then prods at Stiles’ hole, breaching the tight bud with just the tip causing the young man to keen obscenely. He feels Stiles clench down hard as he cums down Derek’s throat, the thick, salty, slightly bitter liquid coating the insides of his hot mouth and seeping into his taste buds. Derek pants, luxuriating in the way their scents mingle before pulling back and letting Stiles finish on his face, flicking his tongue out to catch the droplets as they run down his cheeks. He rubs the rest into his skin and purrs to himself as he basks in the tacky bliss that is Stiles’ cum. He exhales and opens his eyes.

Then he closes them, and prays for death.

In those few fleeting moments, this is what Derek saw.

On the ground in front of him Stiles is lying still, legs akimbo exposing his glory to the world. He managed to keep his hoodie and is lying back with his arm covering his eyes, catching his breath. He was the one glimpse of utter beauty Derek saw before the rest. The rest being the crowd of gawkers both outraged and titillated, mouths agape at the spectacle the two had made. Derek thought it was just the tomato though he has little recollection of how he got that, but he can see now the path of destruction they carved that is littered with smashed fruits and vegetables and Derek knows for a fact that he’s got an all natural shea based lotion from Bobby Finstock’s skincare stand in his hair (and in the crack of his ass which he doesn’t even have the energy to question now).

“Son, I think you better… hell, just come on.”

Derek wants to cry, but big alphas don’t cry so instead he opens his eyes and sees the sheriff glaring at him. Instead of reaching out to him, the sheriff is reaching towards his wayward son whom he’s covered with his jacket. Derek growls and rips the jacket away, foisting Stiles into his lap and flashing his eyes angrily at the intruder. Stiles slowly comes back online and looks around finally seeing his dad. He looks back at Derek and tries to decide between the two threats.

“Uhh, Dad, let’s just try to get him out of here and… shit, let’s just start with that.” He says quietly, trying not to squirm as Derek’s hand inches towards his ass.

“I’ve got a tranq gun with wolfsbane bullets in it. It’s only enough to knock him out for a bit.”

Derek’s head pops up and he looks like a deer caught in headlights. Stiles tries to calm him.

“Hey sweetie, sorry about this, but my dad is gonna pump your ass full of wolfsbane so we can get out of here okay?” Stiles says soothingly as he runs his hand over Derek’s head. Derek shakes his head quickly and is about to protest until he feels a sharp pain in his arm and everything quickly fades to black.

***

Derek’s eyes are still closed, but he feels calm and more settled than before. He groans slightly and can feel a cool breeze hitting his cheek. He can feel the coolness because his cheek is wet. He reaches a finger up blindly to poke at the sticky spot and yup… that’s Stiles’ cum.

“Werewolves aren’t supposed to get headaches.” He mumbles as he slowly opens his crusted over eyes. Across the room stands Stiles, watching him carefully.

“Morning, Sunshine. How ya doin, big guy?” He asks warily, trying and failing to convey an air of nonchalance while inspecting Derek’s demeanor.

“Why is your cum on my face?” And why did Derek want more? He’d made the mistake of after rubbing his eyes, sticking his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean. And then rubbing the wetted fingers over his cheeks and stuffing them into his mouth. Also, in the process, he took his hand and shoved it down his pants, squeezing his leaking cock.

“Umm, Derek, sweetie, I really need you to fucking focus, because you look like sin and daddy Stiles has been a baaaad boy!” Stiles pleads with the wolf whose attention he finally holds with altogether too much eye contact. Derek’s eyes are flashing alpha red and that’s Stiles’ favorite color and if you tried to challenge him on it, he would fight you. “Der, baby, please, turn off the lights and come back to me. We gotta talk this thing out. I fucking nutted on your face, Deaton said that should hold you for a bit.”

Derek looks over at the boy on the other side of the room and has just… so many questions. Starting with, why is Stiles’ ass on the other side of the room, and not in his mouth? Where it fucking belongs.

“Stiles, bring your ass to me.” Derek commands, leaning up slightly and slowly, watching Stiles pace in a circle.

“Der, we don’t have much time, we gotta figure this shit out. Deaton said he’d let me talk to you first or else he was going to separate us. But we can do this, we’re big boys. I can’t stand to be away from you, but I get it’s like… hormones and shit, right?” Stiles wipes at his brow with one hand while the other is inelegantly shoved into his pants and while the main reasoning would lead you to believe he’s holding the base of his cock so he won’t go off, his fingers that are tip toeing their way down his taint seem to be rebelliously defying reason. “Deaton said the hornier you are, the hornier I’ll be which means I need you to be good boy.” Stiles stops and gawks in Derek’s direction.

“Let me try that again. _Ahem_ , when you’re horny, I’m also horny as shit so I need you be good boy for Papa Stisey. Fuck the-”

“What?” Derek asks unnecessarily as Stiles whimpers and thunks inelegantly to his knees.

“Um need my big strong alpha to be big bad in my ass! _Shit_ , Der, I’m need you be good boy! _Dammit_!”

“Did you say, _Papa Stisey_?” Derek slurs as he stands and walks over to Stiles. Well, almost, he takes a step and sways for a moment. Then he just stands there before slowly sashaying laterally in some direction. Stiles is still about 20 feet away and he’s… not doing so well. He’s sweating and he’s not fully supernatural but his eyes are flashing and his nipples feel like stalagmites… no wait, which are the ones that point down? Stalagtites? He’s got stalagtits!

“I do that when I’m horny. My sex talk is so embarrassing. It’s so bad, I’m such a bad boy and I need big alpha daddy to- _fuck_! Deaton, I can’t do this!” Stiles yells out as Derek watches him in confusion, still sunwalking his way towards the young man. He almost reaches him, but notices Stiles is encased in ring of mountain ash. From the corner of his eye he can see Deaton entering the room.

Derek locks eyes with Stiles, flashing them brightly.

“Stiles, break the seal _now_.”

Stiles whimpers at the command and slides his hand along the ground in front of him towards the line. Derek pants.

“Yeah, just a few more inches, mate, and you’ll be _mine_.”

“I get what you see in them kid, but we seriously need to talk about the hot messes you let into your bed.” Derek’s head swings around to see the sheriff aiming a tranq gun at him. He bristles, wondering how the human got into his den without him noticing it. Was he here to attack his mate? Was Derek gonna have to fuck up the sheriff?

“Sheriff, I swear to gaia I will rip your throat out with my-” Is the last thing Derek says before hitting the floor. The last thing he hears is “ _no daddy, I love him!”._ He hopes he never wakes up.

He does.

***

He’s groggy, and horny, and tied with wolfsbane soaked rags to a metal headboard. Deaton sits in a chair across from him, watching him carefully and writing something down on a pad. Derek sniffs the air, Stiles is gone. On one hand he’s happy that he can finally think semi clearly, but on the other, his wolf howls longingly for his mate.

“What the fuck am I going to do?” He rasps towards Deaton. The older man looks at Derek and sighs, shaking his head.

“Derek,” Deaton begins, not even trying to act as though he has a solution, “I don’t know. I’s such an anomaly that the last recorded time it happened was during the middle ages and they put down the wolf. Soon after the mate killed themselves and both corpses were set afire so the mania wouldn’t spread.”

Derek bristles. That’s some dark shit, but in the state he’s in, he understands. He can feel Stiles, knows he’s somewhere inside of Derek’s territory, but the fact that he’s not here, with his dick in Derek’s ass filling him up with that sweet, sweet elixir? Well, that pisses Derek off.

“Derek? You… you have to calm down, Derek.” Deaton says as he stands slowly and begins to back towards the door. Derek growls and begins to pull at the restraints, uncaring of the stinging leather biting into his wrists.

“Deaton, get me my mate, _now_.”

“Alpha Hale, I think it’s best if you-”

“Deaon, _now_!” Derek seethes, pulling awkwardly so one piece of the headboard detaches from the wall. He’s working on the other side when Deaton’s phone rings. The doctor has the nerve to answer it.

“Yes? How long?” Deaton confers with someone on the other line. Derek can’t concentrate enough to make out the voice, he’s got one part of the headboard free and is working on the other part.

“Deaton get off the fucking phone and release me! Deaton!” Derek frantically pulls at the slats, wincing as his skin literally starts to smolder from his wrists. He uses the pain to push forward. Deaton… holds up a finger. Derek was going to break it the first change he got.

“Two hours?! I don’t know if I have enough for that long!” Deaton pleads, watching Derek’s progress from the corner of his eye. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small pouch of mountain ash, ready to cast it into a circle. “Please, tell him to hurry, time is of the essence… no pun intended, I assure you.”

“Deaton, please.” Derek pouts, breathing heavily and trying to lick his cheek in case some of Stiles’ cum was still there. “Please tell him to come here. Just for a little bit. Tell him I’m be good, I’m be good alpha.”

“Derek, he’s indisposed right now and it’s for the safety of you both, but-”

“Deaton, get him NOW!” Derek pulls the headboard from the other side of the wall and lunges towards Deaton, the headboard balancing on his back like a pair of iron wings. Deaton puts down the circle of ash and reaches into the back of his pants before pointing a tranq gun directly at the beleaguered young wolf.

“Alpha Hale, I hope you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“Deaton, no!” Derek’s pleas fall from his mouth and are faceplanted into the floor where he falls unconscious.

***

“Alpha? _Alllllpha_ ….” A soothing voice coaxes Derek from his slumber and a hand weaves it’s way through his hair. He inhales and is inundated with the smell of _mate_. It smells right and pure and he’s got to taste it to make sure it’s real. He leans up slightly, latching onto the boy’s neck, nipping playfully at the flush, mole dotted skin before him.

“Easy big guy, my dad is like, right here.” Stiles says gently, his big brown eyes sparkling brightly as the late afternoon sun cascades through the window. Derek grabs his crotch with one hand and cups Stiles’ face with the other, running his thumb along the young man’s cupid’s bow. He sighs.

“Fuck your dad.”

Stiles jaw drops as he looks up quickly at the man in question and tries not to laugh.

“What? He fucking shot me, twice!” Derek glares briefly in the direction of the sheriff before focusing his attention back on Stiles.

“I still have that tranq gun, young man.” Sheriff warns from the corner.

“No one is getting shot!” Stiles flaps his hand at him and refocuses his attention on Derek which causes Derek’s heart to pitter patter. Though cursing out the sheriff was certainly out of character, Derek finally realizes that he’s able to actually comprehend the world around him and is only 45% driven by primal urge.

“Why am I not shot? Why can I remember this? Did I break Deaton’s fingers?” Derek asks, moving his head around in Stiles’ lap and finally landing on the doctor who is standing hear the door still in a circle of mountain ash. He waves all ten of his fingers before folding his arms across his chest again. Derek can’t help the snarl that escapes. Stiles laughs.

“Well boo- yes, nicknames are a thing that’s happening, get used to it- I found a way to keep your urges at bay. It just took a few hours to put together the first batches, but if we get a good pattern started, we should be able to get you through until we figure out how to really settle this thing.”

Derek looks up confused at Stiles and is about to question him until he gets a cookie shoved into his mouth. He chews it thoughtfully. It’s a sugar cookie base, but there’s something slightly salty in it. Something bitter, but pleasantly so. He feels… relaxed, with a mild thrum of arousal coursing through his veins.

“My jizz is in those cookies!” Stiles declares proudly as he’s garnered with groans from the peanut gallery still in their mountain ashed corner.

Derek… well, he can’t be too assed to care at this point. He simply points to his mouth for another cookie and settles back as Stiles feeds it to im.

“I also made muffins and popsicles! And I figure I can just fuck you in the ass if we get low on supplies.”

“Jesus, Stiles!” The Sheriff complains, but Stiles silences him.

“Hey old man, don’t act like you weren’t there when I was a hot mess on the ground in the farmer’s market soiling all the sopressata. You know how this sausage gets made, it’s not my fault this magic be cray!”

“I get scotch and steak for a week, no complaints, no judgements.” Sheriff negotiates. Stiles shrugs and goes back to lovingly feeding his mate.

“Don’t worry babe, we’ll get to the bottom of this.” Derek rumbles happily as Stiles’ hands him a straw and a _‘Stilesnilla’_ milkshake, and basks in the irony that the unluckiest guy on earth got mated with the most perfect human. Derek couldn’t be happier at the direction his life was taking and couldn’t wait to travel it with Stiles by his side.

He’s still gonna break Deaton’s fingers, tho.

**Author's Note:**

> Working on another prompt and the reversebang. See you with more content soon!


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